[ Sam's a frequent visitor to the training wing. It's not like the facilities back at the Avengers compound, but they're still pretty damn good, and he's got a regiment to keep up. Normally he's there way too damn early in the "morning" - or what passes for morning on a space station - but today he's running a little bit late.
He heads into the training hall after a run, body loose and warm from the exertion and ready to get into the more practical aspects of his training.
Of course, he reconsiders when he spots a very familiar punching bag death look, even if the one giving it is only vaguely familiar. It's always the punching bags that get the short end of the stick when people feel the need to work out some unpleasant emotions through physical exertion, it seems.
His mind is closed off, like he always does with new people, but it doesn't take a mental connection to realize she's not doing all that great. ]
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He heads into the training hall after a run, body loose and warm from the exertion and ready to get into the more practical aspects of his training.
Of course, he reconsiders when he spots a very familiar punching bag death look, even if the one giving it is only vaguely familiar. It's always the punching bags that get the short end of the stick when people feel the need to work out some unpleasant emotions through physical exertion, it seems.
His mind is closed off, like he always does with new people, but it doesn't take a mental connection to realize she's not doing all that great. ]
That's a hell of a lot of dedication.